Read stories about summer fun for children. Poems, stories, tales about summer, a book on fiction (senior group) on the topic

Stories about summer for middle school children school age. Stories about the summer of Sergei Aksakov and Konstantin Ushinsky.

Sergey Aksakov

EARLY SUMMER

Spring has passed. The nightingale finished its last songs, and almost all the other songbirds stopped singing. Only the bluethroat was still mimicking and distorting the voices and cries of all sorts of birds, and even that was soon to fall silent. Some larks, hanging somewhere in the sky, invisible to human eyes, scattered their melodic trills from above, enlivening the sleepy silence of the sultry, silent summer. Yes, the vociferous spring has passed, a time of carefree fun, songs, love! The “summer turns” have passed, that is, June 12; the sun turned to winter, and summer to heat, as the Russian people say; The business time has come for birds, the time of vigilant worries, incessant fears, instinctive self-forgetfulness, self-sacrifice, the time of parental love. The songbirds have hatched children, it is necessary to feed them, then teach them to fly and protect them every minute from dangerous enemies, from birds of prey and animals. There are no more songs, but there is a cry; this is not a song, but a speech: the father and mother constantly call out, call, beckon to their stupid cubs, who answer them with a plaintive, monotonous squeak, opening their hungry mouths. Such a change, which took place in just two weeks, during which I did not leave the city, greatly amazed and even saddened me...

Konstantin Ushinsky

SUMMER

At the beginning of summer there are the longest days. For about twelve hours the sun does not leave the sky, and the evening dawn has not yet had time to fade in the west, when a whitish stripe already appears in the east - a sign of the approaching morning. And the closer you go to the north, the longer the days in summer and the shorter the nights.

The sun rises very, very high in the summer, not like in the winter: a little higher, and it would be right above your head. The almost vertical rays heat it up greatly, and by midday they even burn mercilessly. It's approaching noon; the sun climbed high into the transparent blue vault of the sky. Only here and there, like light silver lines, are visible cirrus clouds - harbingers of constant good weather, or buckets, as the peasants say. The sun can no longer go higher and from this point it will begin to descend to the west. The point from which the sun begins to decline is called noon. Stand facing noon, and the side you are looking at will be south, to the left, where the sun rose, is east, to the right, where it slopes, is west, and behind you is north, where the sun never appears.

At noon, not only is it impossible to look at the sun itself without a strong, burning pain in the eyes, but it is difficult even to look at the brilliant sky and earth, at everything that is illuminated by the sun. The sky, the fields, and the air are filled with hot, bright light, and the eye involuntarily seeks greenery and coolness. It's too warm! Light steam flows over the resting fields (those on which nothing has been sown this year). This is warm air filled with vapors: flowing like water, it rises from the highly heated earth. That is why our smart peasants talk about such fields that they rest under fallow. Nothing moved on the tree, and the leaves, as if tired of the heat, hung. The birds hid in the wilderness; livestock stops grazing and seeks coolness; a person, drenched in sweat and feeling very exhausted, leaves work: everything is waiting for the fever to subside. But bread, hay, trees need this heat.

However, long drought is harmful for plants that love warmth, but also love moisture; It’s hard for people too. That is why people rejoice when storm clouds roll in, thunder strikes, lightning flashes and refreshing rain waters the thirsty earth. If only the rain did not come with hail, which sometimes happens in the hottest summer: hail is destructive for ripening grain and leaves other fields in a luster. The peasants fervently pray to God that there will be no hail.

Everything that spring began, summer ends. The leaves grow to their full size, and the recently transparent grove becomes an impenetrable home for thousands of birds. In the water meadows, the thick, tall grass sways like the sea. A whole world of insects moves and buzzes in it. The trees in the gardens have faded. Bright red cherries and dark crimson plums are already flickering among the greenery; The apples and pears are still green and hidden between the leaves, but in the silence they ripen and become full. One linden tree is still in bloom and fragrant. In its thick foliage, between its slightly white but fragrant flowers, a harmonious, invisible choir is heard. This is done with the songs of thousands of cheerful bees on the honeyed, fragrant linden flowers. Come closer to the singing tree: it even smells like honey!

The early flowers have already faded and are preparing seeds, others are still in full bloom. The rye has risen, spiked and is already beginning to turn yellow, agitated like the sea under the pressure of a light wind. Buckwheat is in bloom, and the fields sown with it seem to be covered with a white veil with a pinkish tint; they carry the same pleasant honey smell that lures bees to the blooming linden tree.

And how many berries and mushrooms! Like red coral, juicy strawberries glow in the grass; transparent currant catkins hung on the bushes... But is it possible to list everything that appears in the summer? One thing matures after another, one catches up with the other.

And birds, beasts, and insects have plenty of freedom in the summer! Now the young birds are squeaking in their nests. But while their wings are still growing, caring parents scurry in the air with a cheerful cry, looking for food for their chicks. The little ones have long been sticking their thin, still poorly feathered necks out of the nest and, with their noses open, waiting for handouts. And there is enough food for the birds: one picks up the grain dropped by the ear, the other itself ruffles a ripening branch of hemp or plucks a juicy cherry; the third is chasing the midges, and they are milling around in heaps in the air. A keen-sighted hawk, spreading its long wings wide, flies high in the air, vigilantly looking out for a chicken or some other young, inexperienced bird that has strayed from its mother - it gets jealous and, like an arrow, it launches at the poor thing; she cannot escape the greedy claws of a predatory, carnivorous bird. Old geese, proudly stretching out their long necks, cackle loudly and lead their little babies to the water, fluffy like spring lambs on willows and yellow like egg yolks.

The hairy, colorful caterpillar sways on its many legs and gnaws on leaves and fruits. There are already a lot of colorful butterflies fluttering around. The golden bee works tirelessly on linden, on buckwheat, on fragrant, sweet clover, on many different flowers, getting everywhere what she needs to make her cunning, fragrant honeycombs. There is an incessant hum in the apiaries (bee colonies). Soon the bees will become crowded in the hives, and they will begin to swarm: to divide into new hardworking kingdoms, of which one will remain at home, and the other will fly to look for new housing somewhere in a hollow tree. But the beekeeper will intercept the swarm on the road and plant it in a brand new hive that had long been prepared for it. Ant has already set up many new underground galleries; The thrifty mistress of the squirrel is already beginning to carry ripening nuts into her hollow. Freedom for everyone, freedom for everyone!

Lots and lots of summer work for the peasant! So he plowed the winter fields and prepared a soft cradle for the grain of grain for autumn. Before he had even finished plowing, it was time to mow. Mowers, in white shirts, with shiny and ringing scythes in their hands, go out into the meadows and together mow down the tall, already fertilized grass to the roots. Sharp braids shine in the sun and ring under the blows of a shovel full of sand. The women also work together with rakes and dump the already dried hay into stacks. The pleasant ringing of braids and friendly, sonorous songs rush everywhere from the meadows. Tall round haystacks are already being built.

The boys roll in the hay and, pushing each other, burst into ringing laughter; and a shaggy little horse, all covered with hay, can barely drag a heavy hay on a rope.

Before the hayfield had time to leave, the harvest began. Rye, the nurse of the Russian man, is ripe. The ear, heavy with many grains and yellowed, bent strongly towards the ground; If you still leave it on the field, the grain will begin to crumble, and God’s gift will be wasted without benefit. They throw scythes and take up sickles. It’s fun to watch how, scattered across the field and bending down to the very ground, orderly rows of reapers cut down tall rye at the roots and place it in beautiful, heavy sheaves. Two weeks of such work will pass, and in the field, where tall rye had recently been agitated, cut straw will stick out everywhere. But on the compressed strip there will be tall, golden piles of bread in rows.

Before they had time to harvest the rye, it was time to start working on the golden wheat, barley, and oats; and there, you look, the buckwheat is already blushing and asking for a braid. It's time to tug the flax: it's completely falling off. Now the hemp is ready; flocks of sparrows fuss over it, taking out the oily grain. It's time to dig and the potatoes and apples have long been lying in the tall grass. Everything is ripe, everything is ripening, everything must be removed on time; Even a long summer day is not enough!

Late in the evening people return from work. They are tired; but their cheerful, sonorous songs resound loudly in the evening dawn. In the morning, together with the sun, the peasants will again get to work; and the sun rises much earlier in the summer!

Why is the peasant so cheerful in the summer, when he has so much work? And the work is not easy. It takes a lot of habit to swing a heavy scythe all day long, cutting off a good armful of grass each time, and with habit you still need a lot of diligence and patience. It’s not easy to press under the scorching rays of the sun, bending down to the very ground, sweating, suffocating from the heat and fatigue. Look at the poor peasant woman, how she wipes large drops of sweat from her flushed face with her dirty but honest hand. She doesn’t even have time to feed her child, although he is right there in the field floundering in his cradle, hanging on three stakes stuck in the ground. The screamer's little sister is still a child herself and has recently begun to walk, but she is not idle either: in a dirty, torn shirt, she squats by the cradle and tries to rock her rambunctious little brother.

But why is the peasant happy in the summer, when he has so much work and his work is so difficult? Oh, there are many reasons for this! Firstly, the peasant is not afraid of work: he grew up in labor. Secondly, he knows that summer work feeds him all year and that he must use the bucket when God gives it; Otherwise, you may be left without bread. Thirdly, the peasant feels that his labors feed not just his family, but the whole world: me, and you, and all the dressed-up gentlemen, although some of them look at the peasant with contempt. He, digging in the ground, feeds everyone with his quiet, not brilliant work, like the roots of a tree feed the proud peaks, dressed with green leaves.

A lot of diligence and patience are needed for peasant work, but a lot of knowledge and experience are also required. Try to press, and you will see that it takes a lot of skill. If someone without the habit takes a scythe, he will not get much use with it. Sweeping a good haystack is also not an easy task; you have to plow skillfully, but in order to sow well - evenly, not thicker and not less often than it should be - not even every peasant will undertake this.

In addition, you need to know when and what to do, how to make a plow and a harrow, how to make hemp, for example, from hemp, from hemp threads, and from threads to weave canvas... Oh, the peasant knows a lot, a lot and can do it, and he cannot be called an ignoramus, even if he didn’t know how to read! Learning to read and learning many sciences is much easier than learning everything that a good and experienced peasant should know.

The peasant falls asleep sweetly after hard work, feeling that he has fulfilled his sacred duty. And it is not difficult for him to die: the field he cultivated and the field he still sown remains to his children, whom he gave water to, fed, accustomed to work, and put them in front of people as workers in his place.

Tatyana Bezmenova
“Summer, what are you like?” Conversation with children about summer. Children's themed drawings

Target. Generalizing children's knowledge about summer.

Tasks.

Teach children to answer questions about the content of story pictures with complete answers;

Develop auditory attention fine motor skills fingers, the ability to reflect one’s impressions in a drawing, children’s imagination;

Introduce children to the signs of summer.

Integration of educational areas.

“Speech development”, “Artistic and aesthetic development”, “Cognitive development”, “Social and communicative development”.

Preliminary work.

Looking at pictures and illustrations in books on summer themes; reading poems about summer.

Material and equipment.

Scene pictures from the “Summer” series; felt-tip pens, album sheets according to the number of children.

Progress of the conversation

1. Organizational moment

Guys, I’ll read you a riddle now. Listen to it carefully and tell me what time of year we are talking about?

I am made of heat,

I carry the warmth with me.

I warm the rivers.

"Take a bath!" - I suggest.

And love for it

You all have me. I….(summer)

(Children's answers)

That's right, well done. My riddle is about summer. Guys, it was not in vain that I started the conversation with a riddle about the summer. Who knows what date it is today?

(Children's answers)

2. The teacher’s story about summer.

Summer is one of the four seasons. This time is different high temperature air. The sun warms us a lot and makes us happy with its warmth. Summer is a favorite time not only for children, but also for adults. In summer you can swim, sunbathe, fish, bike and roller skate. In the forest, with the arrival of summer, big changes occur - ants begin to build anthills, spiders weave webs, chicks learn to fly, beautiful flowers bloom, mushrooms and berries grow everywhere. In mid-June, raspberries begin to ripen, which bear cubs love. And in the summer, squirrels begin to prepare supplies for the winter.

Guys, I know one wonderful poem about summer, listen.

Tell me, children, summer -

What color is it:

Green, burgundy,

Or maybe purple?

And summer is very different:

Brown, red,

Lemon-golden,

Like a fluffy cloud,

Like a rosy apple,

Spicy like mint for tea.

Cheerful and loud,

With boys, with girls.

It's cool from the rain.

It's very hot from the sun,

Happy and bright!

We all need -

It's always a favorite!

Did you like the poem? And guys, I know a few folk signs about the phenomena that occur in the summer.

The spider intensively weaves webs - for dry weather.

The frogs croaked - to bad weather.

Swallows fly low - before the rain.

Heavy dew means a clear day.

Rainbow in the evening - good weather.

Rainbow in the morning - for rain.

3. Children compose stories about summer (based on plot pictures)

Guys, I told you about summer, and now I want to show you a few pictures where the artist painted summer, everything you can do in summer. Let's get a look.

(The teacher sequentially shows several pictures on a summer theme, gives the children the opportunity to look at each picture)

Guys, now tell me what kind of summer it is?

(Children's stories about summer)

4. Drawing – “How we imagine summer.”

The teacher invites the children to draw summer the way they imagine it. The teacher places an easel with several pictures with summer scenes in front of the children, and the children use felt-tip pens to draw their impressions and ideas about summer.

5. Summary. Exhibition of children's drawings.

The teacher, together with the children, examines the children’s work, evaluates each work, and invites them to tell what they drew.

Why are flowers beautiful and fragrant?

Children usually think that flowers are beautiful and fragrant so that everyone can admire them. However, they do not bloom for people. Bright colors Flowers need scent to attract insects.

Only we humans can admire the beauty of flowers. But for insects, only the color, shape of the flower and smell are important. After all, flowers not only attract, they also feed: some insects with nectar, others with pollen, and others with both.

In order for plants to produce seeds, pollen must be transferred from one flower to another. This is exactly what insects do. A butterfly will fly in for a sweet drop of nectar, sit on a flower, and the pollen will stick to it. Then the butterfly will sit on a neighboring plant and pollinate its flower with the pollen that sticks to its legs.

This is how not only butterflies, but also other insects carry pollen. Only some people like some flowers, and others like others. For example, a bee or bumblebee will not sit on a lily of the valley. But the mosquito's bell of the lily of the valley is both a table and a house. A flower called snapdragon small insects They fly around: they can’t get into the flower, they don’t have enough strength. And a bee or bumblebee, please, rest its back against the upper part of the flower, bend the lower part with its paws and climb inside.

Insects never confuse flowers: they fly only to those in which food is suitable for them and can be obtained.

Many flowers open and release scents only in the evening. Usually these flowers are white: White color It's most noticeable at dusk. Who are they luring? Butterflies! Only now they are not daytime, but nighttime. Thus, day and night, from spring to autumn, great work goes on in nature: countless voluntary messengers carry and carry pollen. Some plants fade, flowers appear on others.

In the spring, insects pollinate flowers on fruit trees, after this in the summer, ruddy apples, pears, juicy cherries and other fruits appear on them. And bees, bumblebees and other insects participated in the creation of this abundance... Without them, there would be no fruits.

A. Dietrich

Cabbage whites

The boy caught a white butterfly in the garden and brought it to his father.

“This is a nasty butterfly,” said the father, “if there are too many of them, our cabbage will disappear.”

- Is this butterfly so greedy? - asks the boy.

“Not the butterfly itself, but its caterpillar,” the father answers, “this butterfly will lay tiny eggs, and caterpillars will crawl out of the eggs.”

The caterpillar is very voracious. All she does is eat and grow. When she grows up, she will become a pupa. The pupa does not eat, does not drink, lies motionless, and then a butterfly, just like this one, will fly out of it.

This is how every butterfly turns from an egg into a caterpillar, from a caterpillar into a pupa, from a pupa into a butterfly, and the butterfly lays eggs and freezes somewhere on a leaf.

K. Ushinsky

Urticaria and lemongrass

- I can’t stand strange names! Why are you Lemongrass if lemons don’t even grow here? Here I am: I have an appetite for nettles - I am Urticaria! She has an appetite for cabbage - she's a Cabbage Girl! Everything is simple and clear!

- And they called me Lemongrass not for my appetite, but for my beauty! My dress is beautiful, lemon color. But you gluttons just don’t understand this...

N. Sladkov

Where is her home?

A butterfly sat on a flower, and the flower bent down. The butterfly swayed along with the flower to the left, then to the right. A butterfly swings on a flower, like on a swing. She either lowers her long, thin, curved proboscis inside the flower or takes it out.

Ten stamens lined up in a circle. Pollen from the stamens showers the butterfly on all sides, and this causes the butterfly's head, abdomen, and legs to turn yellow.

There are different flowers. The butterfly loves flowers with petals open in all directions so that it can sit on the flower and see what is happening around it. And there are some flowers that have porches and a roof. You sit on the porch, you have to stick your head under the roof, but your wings remain outside. It’s good for the bee: it’s small - everything fits under the roof. You can't see it from the outside, you can only hear the flower buzzing.

Sometimes tiny, squirmy thrips crawl between the petals in the flowers. There are so many of them that wherever a butterfly lowers its proboscis, it bumps into them everywhere. And you can’t get away from these thrips, because in the flower they are the rightful owners - this is their home. Where is the butterfly's home?

Hot. Midges swarm in the sunbeam. A whole cloud of midges. The butterfly does not go around them. She flies straight towards the cloud. Cuts right through it. And now behind the butterfly there is a whole train of midges. The midges fly after the butterfly, trying to catch up with it, but in vain. Butterflies fly faster than midges.

Having flown across a wide road, the butterfly finds itself above a narrow path leading into the bushes. There's shade here. It's not so hot here. A butterfly flies over the path between the bushes. The bushes above the path are closing closer and closer. And lower and lower the butterfly has to fly. Now the branches above have already completely closed and covered the sky. And suddenly the butterfly, with all its might, stumbles upon some thin sticky barrier. Her wings beat spasmodically against the web. The web becomes shiny, sparkling with scales that fall from the butterfly’s wings. And the wings become completely transparent, like glass.

Above the butterfly in the right corner, a huge cross spider. He is waiting. Waiting for the butterfly to become completely confused. But the butterfly suddenly frees its wings from the web and hangs on its two hind legs. One more jerk and she flies into the air. Her hind legs remain on the web.

Glade. There are many yellow flowers in the clearing. Butterflies fly over the flowers. There are a lot of them too. They sit on one flower, then on another. Having sat on a flower, butterflies untwist their proboscis, which is curled into a spiral when flying. Unwind and lower into the flower. Butterflies drink nectar and transfer pollen from flower to flower. There are many flowers in the meadow. They have all opened their petals, they have all stretched out their stamens, they are all waiting for butterflies.

Spruce, pine, birch. No, that's not what it's all about. And here is the field. And there is cabbage in the field. Large, tight, cracked with juice. A person would pick such a head of cabbage and take it to the children. But the butterfly doesn’t like this head of cabbage for her children. It is not sweet enough, not juicy enough for butterfly children. A butterfly flies from one head of cabbage to another and tastes the cabbage with its front paws. The butterfly's front legs sense taste. And they don’t just feel, but feel in the most subtle way. The taste of a butterfly is developed two hundred, three hundred times stronger than that of a human. The butterfly will fly over the field for a long time, and it will take a long time to choose the sweetest, most delicious cabbage. And when it chooses, it will sit on the lower green leaf and lay yellow, large, ribbed eggs.

The wind rustled through the trees. The leaves are green, and the rustling is soft, barely audible. But there are two dry leaves on the branch. Like dry paper. But they are so small and also torn. So you won’t make the same noise here. Yes, these are not leaves. These are the dried wings of a dead butterfly.

The butterfly died right on the branch, clinging to it with its paws. So she sits there tight. Dead. A strong wind blew the branch and tore off the butterfly. There's a butterfly in the air again! She's flying again! Only now there are winged seeds in the air next to her. These seeds have wings as lifeless as those of a dead butterfly.

The butterfly did not have a home. Every hollow tree, every convenient twig, every silken blade of grass, every fragrant flower was home for her. And why does this butterfly need a home if it only lives for sixteen days? And if in sixteen days you need to know the world.

According to N. Romanova

Hospital under the pine tree

The ants quickly “comb out” everything that has accumulated under the wings, and at the same time spray the bird’s body with a pungent-smelling acid. Naturalists have noticed: almost half of all forest birds take ant baths.

V. Peskov

Can animals talk? (excerpt)

Everyone knows that in fairy tales animals and birds talk. But that’s in a fairy tale! But what about in life?

Animals have many different signals. Animals can communicate a lot to each other with these signals. Insects also have signals.

With its antennae, one ant can, for example, “tell” another: “Feed me,” “Share food.” By touching their antennae, ants recognize whether they have met one of their own or a stranger.

And bee signals are absolutely extraordinary. Returning to the hive, the scout bee sits on the honeycomb and begins to perform an intricate dance. She makes circles or figure eights with a buzz and at the same time shakes her belly. And the foraging bees are watching the dancer. By the direction and speed of movement, by the size of circles and figures of eight, by how often the dancer raises her abdomen, the bees learn in which direction and at what distance the scout found flowers full of sweet juice-nectar. As soon as the dance is over, the miners fly out of the hive and unmistakably find the place from which the scout flew.

A. Dietrich

The Tale of the Daughter of Thunder and Clouds

In a certain kingdom-state there lived Uncle Thunder. He lived in a large and very uncomfortable cave. In winter, he slept so soundly that he even forgot to grumble, although this was his favorite pastime.

But then Spring came, Uncle Thunder woke up and was very, very bored. The bright cheerful Sun, which always sees everything from above, noticed his sadness and said: “You are sad because you live alone. You need to find a bride and get married. Then there will be no time to be sad.

Uncle Thunder was delighted with this advice: “Listen, Sun, you go everywhere, you look into all corners of Mother Earth. Please find me a bride!” The sun agreed with pleasure and immediately went on a search: it looked very carefully at Mother Earth, looked into lakes and rivers, wanting to find a bride there for Uncle Thunder. From such a close gaze, the water in the rivers and lakes began to heat up and rise with steam, turning into a thick fog. The fog rose into the high blue Sky and, illuminated by the sun's rays, turned into pink, white, blue Clouds. The bully Wind appeared out of nowhere. It was he who drove these multi-colored clouds into a large purple Cloud.

The cloud was majestic and beautiful. “Why not a bride for Uncle Thunder?” - thought the Sun and asked: “Listen, Wind, please take this beauty to Uncle Thunder!” Frisky Wind agreed and immediately brought Cloud to the cave. Thunder looked out of his home and froze... He saw a magnificent Cloud, illuminated by the Sun, wrapped in pink lace. He couldn't even grumble as usual. “Ra-tara-ta! - Grom grumbled. - How charming and lovely you are! You seem to have a very serious character, I like that too. Would you like to marry me? Cloud really liked Uncle Thunder’s words, his politeness and admiration. She, of course, agreed only if he would always be so loving and attentive.

One day Cloud said to Thunder: “Dear Thunder, I’m tired of living in this damp cave, let’s go, let’s walk across the blue sky, look at others, show ourselves!”

“With pleasure,” thunder rumbled, “let’s go, let’s go for a walk.” They were beautiful: the majestic Cloud and the good-natured Thunder on blue sky. Everyone admired them and said: “Look, look, what a Cloud is coming! Now there will be thunder! And the bully Wind spun, spun and shouted: “Why are you walking around doing nothing, it’s time for you to work!” - and, with all his might, he blew on Cloud. The cloud spread its wings and poured warm rain. And Thunder, frightened for his beauty, menacingly reprimanded the mischievous man: “Ra-ra-ra-ra-ra, don’t do it!” But Cloud said: “It’s my job to water the fields, wash the flowers.” “Your job is great!” - Thunder rumbled.

At this time, the Sun asked them: “Why do you still live alone? You need to have a child! A little son or daughter." “It’s true, it’s long overdue,” Thunder rejoiced. “I want us to have a red-orange-yellow daughter!” “No,” protested Cloud, “just like me, green-blue-violet!” They would have quarreled very much, but then the good Sun came to the rescue. It said: “Don’t quarrel, I will give you a daughter the way you, Thunder, and you, Cloud, want to see her!”

And a Miracle happened! The sun touched with its shining ray to the edge of the Cloud and the curly lock of Thunder, and at the same moment she was born colorful rainbow. It had seven colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet!

All life on Mother Earth froze with satisfaction, admiration and delight! Everyone admired the daughter of Cloud and Thunder - the magnificent and cheerful Rainbow.

Since then, people have known that there are seven colors in the Rainbow and call them a spectrum.

How Heaven was going to visit Earth

Heaven never came to visit Earth, but it wanted it so bad. From above it looked at the seas, rivers, fields, meadows, forests, people: he liked all this very much. The sky noticed that people looked at it quite often, but did not know whether they liked it.

The Sky began to preen itself in order to please the Earth and its inhabitants. She sewed herself a blue dress, decorated it with lace from the Clouds, put on a solar hoop instead of a crown, and girded herself with a seven-colored Rainbow instead of a belt.

- Oh, what a beautiful sky today! - people admired, - they would have looked at it without looking up. I wish I could turn into birds and fly in such a sky!

Heaven was happy and began to try even harder. She sewed herself a black one velvet dress, scattered silver Stars across her skirt, pinned the yellow-eyed Moon on her chest, and placed a clear Moon on her head. Admire the sky quiet rivers, night birds, fireflies turned on their lights to get a better look at it. The night sky was regal, solemn. The stars in the darkness twinkled and beckoned, the yellow Moon winked with one eye, illuminating the lunar path on the river, and the Moon, the son of the Moon, danced with pride for the Sky.

Morning has come, and Heaven has a new dress again! The sunrise illuminated the snow-white clouds with pink. The sun rose higher and higher, and the sky became more and more beautiful. All the plants, animals and people who woke up along with the Sun rejoiced.

- Take us to you, Heaven! - they asked, - we loved you! Always remain as beautiful!

Birds and insects flocked skyward to admire the sky above. People rose to the Sky on airplanes, helicopters, hang gliders and balloons. They so wanted to touch the sky with their hands, to touch his pink dress!

But then black clouds began to gather. They stained all of Heaven's beautiful dress with mud. It was very upset.

- Everyone will turn their backs on me now! - thought Heaven, - we need to do something urgently.

The sky took out a huge electric lightning needle and threw it at the cloud to disperse it. The cloud, frightened, screamed so loudly that Thunder heard it and answered it, roaring menacingly. Out of fright, the Cloud began to cry, she melted before our eyes, and very soon the dirty dress of the Sky again became clean, but already blue.

The sky has made all the inhabitants of the Earth fall in love with it. Finally, it came to visit the Earth, but this was only possible on the horizon.

E. Alyabyeva

Cloud's Journey

On this summer day, the sun was burning so hot that all the animals and people hid in the shadows, and the water in the river began to evaporate so quickly that water vapor rose into the sky in a column. There they cooled and turned into small droplets, which were so small that they did not fall to the Earth, but gathered together, forming a snow-white Cloud.

- The world is beautiful! - Cloud exclaimed, - and I really want to watch it. But how to do that?

Then someone rubbed their cheek against his side. The cloud turned around and saw a mischievous boy with flowing long hair.

- Who are you? - Cloud asked.

- I am the breeze! - Veterok answered cheerfully.

-What are you doing in Heaven? - Cloud asked.

“And I play with the Clouds and disperse the Clouds,” Veterok shouted, turning in all directions.

- Breeze, please help me see the world. He's so beautiful! “But I can’t budge,” Cloud asked plaintively.

- Of course, I will help you. You are so fluffy, snow-white, cool, like cotton wool, like fluff, like the whipped cream that people eat, like the most delicious ice cream in the world! “I will blow on you and move you across the Sky in any direction,” Veterok sang joyfully.

That's how they became friends. The breeze helped Cloud either quietly float over the Earth, then fly rapidly, or rush as hard as he could. He blew on it, now weakly, now a little harder, now with all his might. And Cloud was happy and surprised at his acquaintance with the world.

The first thing Cloud did was to go to the sea, into which the river flowed, to admire himself in the reflection of the water surface. The cloud looked into the water, as if into a mirror, and saw itself in all directions.

- And I really am beautiful! - Cloud exclaimed.

But then it noticed that it began to gain weight and became larger. It was from the sea that water vapor managed to fly to Cloud.

- Oh oh! - Cloud was upset, - I don’t want to get fat! We need to quickly fly away from the water. Although the sea is so big! And there are so many clouds floating above it. Maybe they are my brothers and sisters? We need to swim closer.

The Cloud approached the other Clouds and began to get to know them. It did not even notice how, during the conversations, all the Clouds merged into one huge Cloud, which rose above the Earth as a beautiful snow-white palace with silver lace on the columns. The breeze barely moved this Cloud from its place. It turned out to be just above the fields and vegetable gardens. The cloud was so heavy that it could not stay in the sky and fell to Earth in a short, warm summer rain. It cried, and people rejoiced. There had been no rain for a long time, the grass in the fields began to turn yellow, and vegetables in the gardens did not grow without moisture. People danced and sang with joy:

- Rain, rain, water!

There will be a grain harvest.

Rain, rain, let it come!

Let the cabbage grow.

The rain passed, and the hot summer Sun shone in the Sky again. It instantly dried up the puddles on the roads. Where is Cloud? Is his journey over? Yes, here it is. Water vapor from the moisture after the rain quickly rose into the Sky, forming a Cloud.

- How scared I was that it had disappeared! - Cloud exclaimed, - but how many good deeds I have done. Everyone was happy: people, plants, and animals. It turns out that everyone needs me?! Great! I’ll swim further, maybe I’ll help someone else.

And Cloud went on with the Wind. It was late in the evening. All nature was preparing for bed. The cloud felt tired and began to yawn. And then the Sun, which was setting behind the horizon, illuminated the Cloud with its radiance. It first closed its eyes from the bright light, and then slowly opened its eyelashes and looked around the sky.

- Fire! Fire! - Cloud shouted.

“Don’t shout like that,” Veterok calmed Cloud, “it’s not a fire, but the Sun is setting.” It’s tired of warming everyone during the day, shining light for everyone, and now it’s going to bed.

The cloud looked around. It was quiet and calm in Heaven. Rare Clouds spread over it like milk jelly. They were extraordinarily beautiful! What colors did the setting Sun and Evening paint them with! Their dresses shimmered in pink, violet, crimson, gold, and smoky colors. Cloud looked at her dress - it was amazingly beautiful. At least now to the ball! But what is this?! The bright colors have disappeared.

- Who stole my beautiful dress?! - Cloud exclaimed - Return it now!

“How funny you are, Cloud,” giggled Veterok, “no one stole your dresses.” The sun just went to bed and it became dark. Night has come. And at night everyone sleeps. And you lie down and rest. Tomorrow we will continue our journey.

The cloud closed its eyes and fell asleep. And Veterok stroked his head for a long time and protected his peace. Distant countries and long roads awaited them.

E. Alyabyeva

Who cares?

A piece of blue sky, peeking out from behind the clouds, was frightened.

“It’s so gray and boring on Earth,” he whispered. - Something must have happened.

- What? What happened? - other pieces of the blue sky shouted and peeked out from behind the clouds.

- But we can’t see it! Both we and we want to see! - rushing from everywhere...

And when the clouds were dispersed so that they would not interfere with the view, and all the pieces of the blue sky could look at the Earth, there was nothing alarming anymore...

- Who says that something happened on Earth? - they began to shout. “Where is the deceiver?”

But no one admitted it - who wants to stand in a corner, and even near the horizon?

V. Khmelnitsky

Birch

Of all the trees in the Russian forest, our birch is the cutest. The light birch groves are nice and clean. White trunks are covered with thin birch bark. As soon as the snow melts in the forest, resinous, fragrant buds will swell on the birch trees.

Many migrating songbirds gather in birch groves. Vocal thrushes sing, cuckoos crow, and nimble titmice fly from tree to tree. Blue and white snowdrop coppices are spread out like a carpet and bloom below the birch trees.

On hot summer days it is good to wander in a birch grove. Warm wind green leaves rustle overhead. It smells like mushrooms and ripe fragrant strawberries. The sun's rays break through the dense foliage.

I. Sokolov-Mikitov

Birch

Birches love sunlight very much and therefore grow on forest edges, bright clearings and clearings.

After forest fires, when all the vegetation burns out in large areas, the first tree to grow from the ashes will be a birch. She loves light, space, and is not afraid of bitter frosts, gusty winds, or spring frosts.

Birch grows very quickly, which is why foresters call it a “racing” tree. Birch can live up to 150-180 years.

In Rus', the beautiful white-trunked birch has always been loved. It was called the tree of happiness. It was considered a symbol of girlish tenderness and beauty.

Birch is a generous and kind tree!

Since ancient times, peasants have woven baskets and tuyeskis from birch bark for berries and mushrooms, and made birch bark horns on which shepherds played when leading a herd of cows from the pasture to the village.

IN old times birch bark was used instead of paper. Medicines were prepared from birch buds and birch bark, and they were used to steam baths with birch brooms to drive out illness.

In spring, the tree treats people and forest dwellers with sweet and healing sap.

Animals and birds drink with pleasure Birch juice. A woodpecker, having pierced the bark with its sharp, strong beak, feasts on life-giving moisture. If a woodpecker flies away, tits, finches, and robins will flock to the birch tree. Sweet birch tears are loved by bears, capercaillie, ants, lemongrass and urticaria butterflies.

L. Sonin

I walked and I found a fairy tale

On a hot afternoon, a small company gathered under the burdock tree; Grasshopper, furry Hoverfly, Hives Butterfly yes Ladybug. They were exhausted from the heat, sitting in the shade, chatting about various things.

“Still, I don’t understand you butterflies,” Ladybug said thoughtfully. - After all, you don’t feel sorry for the sake of beauty and life. Any bird will notice your colorful, patterned wings.

- He can see it from a distance! - the Hoverfly supported, - he will notice, fly in and with his beak - a bale!

- Oh, they scared me! - Butterfly laughed. - You say he will notice my wings from afar? Then watch!

The Hives raised, folded her motley wings and disappeared: a brown birch leaf tossed by the wind was hanging on a stem, but the butterfly was gone.

- Well, how? — the Butterfly asked, opening its wings.

- 3-w-great! - said the Hoverfly, rubbing her paws. - Just like a dry leaf. It turns out that your wings below are completely different.

“This is how we save ourselves,” answered the Butterfly. “And it’s not just us, hives, many are like that.” Some turn into a dry leaf, some turn into a green one. And other butterflies, in order to become invisible, do not fold their wings, but, on the contrary, open them. They will sit on bright flower, open their wings and seem to disappear. The flower is blue - and the butterfly is blue, the flower is white - and the wings of the butterfly too. Blue on blue, white on white - go and notice! This is how we escape from the birds. Our paint is protective!

- Me too! Me too! - the Grasshopper crackled. - Whoever is painted in a protective color, the enemy is not so terrible. We grasshoppers have invisible suits against the bird-checks. Some grasshoppers hide on dry grass: the stems and the ground are grayish-brown - and the grasshoppers are the same. Well, I live where the grass is, the leaves are green. Look, here I am pressed against the green stem - and you won’t be able to see me!

- 3-w-wonderful! Not at all noticeable! - The Hoverfly praised. - It’s even envious!

“Well, you have nothing to complain about,” remarked Ladybug. “The birds over there don’t bother you either.”

“I’m not w-complaining,” the Hoverfly grinned. - I'm s-disguised. Under the bee. Look how fat, shaggy, and similar in color I am to her. It’s not for nothing that people call me “the beekeeper.” A bird flies up, and I say to her: “I’m so sorry!” I’m sorry!” The bird will think that I am really a bee, it will get scared - and move away!

- Wow! The fly dressed up as a bee! A real camouflage outfit! - exclaimed the Grasshopper. And, turning to the Ladybug, he remarked: “Nature gave nothing to you alone, did not protect you with anything.” Noticeable, red and even with dots! There's no way you can hide from the bird!

“Whoever needs it, let them hide, but I won’t,” responded Ladybug.

- Oh, it's terrible! - The Hoverfly became worried. - This is imminent death! And where do you get this unnecessary courage from?

“It’s in my blood, so to speak.” I'm not afraid of birds, let them be afraid of me.

- Ah ah ah! - the Butterfly flapped its wings. - How are you still alive?

“We ladybugs have such a burning, caustic liquid.” When there is danger, we release her. If some foolish chick pecks at our sister, he will immediately spit it out and remember the lesson for the rest of his life. The birds know what we taste like, that’s why no one bothers us. Well, so that the birds don’t make a mistake and confuse us, ladybugs, with other insects, we warn them with our coloring: “Look, we are bright red, dangerous for everyone!”

Then something flashed in the air.

- Tr-rr-revoga! - Grasshopper chirped desperately. - Save yourself!

At the same moment, a young Starling sat down on the ground. Looked around -

no one, looked under the burdock - and there was nothing edible there.

“It’s strange,” Starling said to himself. - I perfectly heard the Grasshopper crackling, I saw the Butterfly - Where did they disappear to? Everyone flew away, only Ladybug remained, which is of no use to me. Oh, how badly everything in nature is arranged! It's no good - everyone is trying to hide!

- Hey, Kr-r-rapivnitsa! The tr-r-r-r-rejoice has passed! Did you hear how this Starling talked about nature? “Poorly designed!” Since the Starling didn’t find us, that means it’s very good!

Summer is a wonderful time that everyone, without exception, loves and looks forward to. This is a wonderful time of sunny and warm days, trips to the sea with the whole family or a friendly company, this is the ripening of plants, the luxury and aroma of beautiful flowers, warm evenings, walks in the park. This is the time when you are incredibly happy about the rain, dance under it, and then admire the beautiful rainbow that appears right above your head. This is the singing of birds from early morning until late evening. This morning dew, the drops of which look like small and charming crystals.
Why are children waiting for summer? How else. This is everyone's favorite time of year. This summer holidays and a break from school for three whole months. At this time, you can enjoy a vacation with friends, go with your parents to the sea or just to the river. Summer for children means trips to grandma's in the village, where there is fresh and fresh air, where you can go into the forest after heavy rain and pick mushrooms. This is where grandma will give you fresh, warm milk.
Everyone loves summer. Finally, people can take off a bunch of clothes and enjoy the warmth of the scorching sun. In summer everything comes to life and dresses up in beautiful outfits. Here you are walking down the street, there is beauty all around, the trees are in green dresses, beautiful multi-colored fruits grow on them, bees fly over the flowers and collect nectar. Everything comes to life around, starting with the smallest ant, with the smallest blade of grass. And how wonderful it is to go out into the street in the evening to listen to the singing of a firefly, which incessantly sings its enchanting song. How beautiful it is to go outside late at night and admire the stars in the clear sky.
How wonderful it is to wake up early in the morning to the singing of birds. You go outside and enjoy everything that happens around you. Everything lives, blooms, smells and pleases not only the eyes, but also your soul.
Of course, there is a lot of work to be done in the summer. Getting up early in the morning, people go to the fields or gardens and take care of the plants. You can get very tired, but what allows you to not give up is the realization that it’s summer, that it’s warm and joyful outside.
Why do I think that absolutely everyone loves summer? Have you ever paid attention to how many songs modern artists compose, how beautifully they sing about this time of year. Listening to them, you involuntarily begin to realize that now is the time for relaxation, unbridled fun, creativity, happiness and joy. Having gone to nature with friends or family, you can calmly go fishing, light a fire and cook your catch. In nature, you can play all kinds of entertaining games, pitch a tent and sing songs with a guitar by the fire until the morning. You rest, and nature rests with you.
How wonderful it is to watch raindrops falling into the river, creating a beautiful picture that you can admire for a very long time. This ripple is simply magical.
In the summer you begin to believe in magic and wishes come true. This time inspires people to take action; they want to create, create something beautiful that can reflect the warmth of the soul and joy.
You walk down the street, look, and somewhere in the distance a lonely flower grows, and you come closer to it and observe a beautiful picture, on this luxurious plant sits a beautiful butterfly, drinking nectar and flapping its multi-colored wings. And that’s it, this flower is no longer itself, it is not alone. A cute creature flew to him, and he began to radiate his beauty even brighter.
Summer is a wonderful time, it's the time of love
In the summer, like children, we again believe in dressing up in beauty.
It's a time of fun and loud laughter all around,
Summer - what is more beautiful? It is your closest friend.
Just thinking about summer makes me want to create, write poems and believe in beauty. Having plunged into this warmth and feeling the gentle embrace of the sun’s rays, I don’t even want to think that summer will be replaced by autumn, then winter and again, in early spring, we will wait for summer.
Of course, every season is beautiful and unforgettable in its own way, but why does everyone love summer so much? It’s just that at this time of year you can truly relax and unwind. Go swimming in the sea, sunbathe on a beautiful sandy beach, travel around all sorts of countries and cities, get to know other peoples and their cultures better. Find out the history different countries, become a part of this story, touch the beauty. See the sights with your own eyes, try the cuisines of the peoples of the world and plunge into the life of those nations and people whom we did not know before.
It is at this time that you want to forget about all the problems and just enjoy life, believe in fairy tales and in the fulfillment of desires. It is in the summer that we admire sunsets and its enchanting sunrises. Right now we are glad to see the wind blowing.
Summer is truly an amazing time of year that you want to fully immerse yourself in. You wait for it again and again. And from year to year, you enjoy the same sun, the same flowers, dew and rain.

A+ A-

Summer - Ushinsky K.D.

From the story “Summer” we learn about where the sun rises and sets, about rain, about summer plants, mushrooms, berries, insects and, of course, about harvesting.

Summer read

The sun rises very high in the summer, not like in the winter; a little higher and it would be right above your head. The almost vertical rays heat it up greatly, and by midday they even burn mercilessly. It's approaching noon; the sun climbed high into the transparent blue vault of the sky. Only here and there, like light silver lines, are visible cirrus clouds - harbingers of constant good weather, or buckets, as the peasants say. The sun can no longer go higher and from this point it will begin to descend to the west. The point from which the sun begins to decline is called noon. Stand facing noon, and the side you are looking at will be south, to the left, where the sun rose, is east, to the right, where it slopes, is west, and behind you is north, where the sun never appears.

At noon, not only is it impossible to look at the sun itself without a strong, burning pain in the eyes, but it is difficult even to look at the brilliant sky and earth, at everything that is illuminated by the sun. The sky, the fields, and the air are filled with hot, bright light, and the eye involuntarily seeks greenery and coolness. It's too warm! Light steam flows over the resting fields (those on which nothing has been sown this year). This is warm air filled with vapors: flowing like water, it rises from the highly heated earth. That is why our smart peasants talk about such fields that they rest under fallow. There was no movement on the tree, and the leaves hung, as if tired of the heat. The birds hid in the wilderness; livestock stops grazing and seeks coolness; a person, drenched in sweat and feeling very exhausted, leaves work: everything is waiting for the fever to subside. But bread, hay, trees need these heats.

However, long drought is harmful for plants that love warmth, but also love moisture; It’s hard for people too. That is why people rejoice when storm clouds roll in, thunder strikes, lightning flashes and refreshing rain waters the thirsty earth. If only the rain did not come with hail, which sometimes happens in the hottest summer: hail is destructive to ripening grain and leaves other fields in luster. The peasants fervently pray to God that there will be no hail.

Everything that spring began, summer ends. The leaves grow to their full size, and the recently transparent grove becomes the impenetrable home of thousands of birds. In the water meadows, the thick, tall grass sways like the sea. A whole world of insects moves and buzzes in it. The trees in the gardens have faded. Bright red cherries and dark crimson plums are already flickering among the greenery; The apples and pears are still green and hidden between the leaves, but in the silence they ripen and become full. One linden tree is still in bloom and fragrant. In its dense foliage, between its slightly white but fragrant flowers, a harmonious, invisible choir is heard. This works with the songs of thousands of cheerful bees on the honeyed, fragrant linden flowers. Come closer to the singing tree: it even smells like honey!

And birds, beasts, and insects have plenty of freedom in the summer! Now the young birds are squeaking in their nests. But while their wings are still growing, caring parents scurry in the air with a cheerful cry, looking for food for their chicks. The little ones have long been sticking their thin, still poorly feathered necks out of the nest and, with their noses open, waiting for handouts. And there is enough food for the birds: one picks up the grain dropped by the ear, another itself rips a ripening branch of hemp or seeds a juicy cherry; the third is chasing the midges, and they are milling around in heaps in the air. A keen-sighted hawk, having spread its long wings wide, flies high in the air, vigilantly looking out for a chicken or some other young, inexperienced bird that has strayed from its mother - it sees and, like an arrow, it launches at the poor thing: it cannot escape the greedy claws of a predator, carnivorous bird. Old geese, proudly stretching out their long necks, cackle loudly and lead their little babies to the water, fluffy like spring lambs on willows and yellow like egg yolks.

Lots and lots of summer work for the peasant! So he plowed the winter fields [Winter fields are fields sown in the fall; the grains overwinter under the snow.] and prepared a soft cradle for the grain grain for autumn. Before he had even finished plowing, it was time to mow. Mowers, in white shirts, with shiny and ringing scythes in their hands, go out into the meadows and together mow down the tall, already fertilized grass to the roots. Sharp braids shine in the sun and ring under the blows of a shovel full of sand. The women also work together with rakes and dump the already dried hay into stacks. The pleasant ringing of braids and friendly, sonorous songs rush everywhere from the meadows. Tall round haystacks are already being built. The boys roll in the hay and, pushing each other, burst into ringing laughter; and a shaggy little horse, all covered with hay, can barely drag a heavy hay on a rope.

Before they had time to harvest the rye, it was time to start working on the golden wheat, barley, and oats; and there, you look, the buckwheat is already blushing and asking for a braid. It's time to pull the flax: it's completely falling off. Now the hemp is ready; flocks of sparrows fuss over it, taking out the oily grain. It's time to dig and the potatoes and apples have long been lying in the tall grass. Everything is ripe, everything is ripening, everything must be removed on time; Even a long summer day is not enough!

Peasant work requires a lot of diligence and patience, but a lot of knowledge and experience are also required. Try to press, and you will see that it takes a lot of skill. If someone picks up a scythe without the habit, he won’t get much use out of it. Sweeping a good haystack is also not an easy task; you have to plow skillfully, but in order to sow well - evenly, not thicker and not less often than it should be - not even every peasant will undertake this. In addition, you need to know when and what to do, how to handle the plow and harrow [Plow and harrow are ancient agricultural tools. A plow is for plowing, a harrow is for breaking up clods after plowing.], how to make hemp, for example, from hemp, from hemp threads, and from threads to weave canvas... Oh, the peasant knows a lot, a lot and can do it, and it can’t be done call him an ignoramus, even if he couldn’t read! Learning to read and learning many sciences is much easier than learning everything that a good and experienced peasant should know.

Confirm rating

Rating: 4.7 / 5. Number of ratings: 21

Help make the materials on the site better for the user!

Write the reason for the low rating.

Send

Thanks for your feedback!

Read 4023 times

Read stories about summer fun for children. Poems, stories, tales about summer, a book on fiction (senior group) on the topic

Sergey Aksakov

EARLY SUMMER

Konstantin Ushinsky

SUMMER

Why are flowers beautiful and fragrant?

Cabbage whites

Urticaria and lemongrass

Where is her home?

Hospital under the pine tree

Can animals talk? (excerpt)

The Tale of the Daughter of Thunder and Clouds

How Heaven was going to visit Earth

Cloud's Journey

Who cares?

Birch

Birch

I walked and I found a fairy tale

Summer - Ushinsky K.D.

Summer read

Help make the materials on the site better for the user!

Other stories by Ushinsky

Forest and stream - Ushinsky K.D.

How a shirt grew in a field - Ushinsky K.D.

Blind horse - Ushinsky K.D.

Swans - Tolstoy L.N.

Pig - Charushin E.I.

Before the first rain - Oseeva V.A.

You might be interested:

Categories

Latest articles

Advertising